Some Kind of Mental Affliction
by bulmablue-eyes
Summary: On a regular Royal visit of a mental institution, Arthur, Prince of Wales, meets a highly irregular patient. MerlinxArthur - See warnings inside.
1. The Royal Visit

**Some Kind of Mental Affliction**

_A/N1: I'm sitting here in Pierrefonds, drinking tea in the gardens of a café, looking up at the castle, and imagining, so, naturally, a fanfic was born._

_A/N2: I must give many, many thanks to Ragepruprock from writing Drastically Redefining Protocol, where the idea of Arthur as Prince of modern England, as well as for the idea of creating pictures to accompany the story._

_**Warnings: This fic features graphic descriptions of abuse, self harm, eating disorders, attempted suicide, and all of the associated issues. It's pretty much as angsty as it gets. Some of the pictures accompanying the fic may also be disturbing or triggering, so don't look at them if you're particularly sensitive to that kind of thing. Also, it's Merlin/Arthur. Need I say any more??? Anyway… on with the fic!!**_

Chapter 1 – The Royal Visit

Prince Arthur James William Uther Pendragon, Prince of Wales and heir to the throne of Great Britain followed his father quietly down the corridors of Marshworth Centre for the Treatment of Mental Illness, silent and barely listening as his father, King Uther, praised the staff emphatically for ensuring that the patients were well cared for, and that they posed no danger to themselves or others.

The prince, however, saw little cause for praise. He saw all that his father was blind to. People here were not cared for, and they were certainly not patients. They were inmates; inmates locked in a prison, hidden from the eyes of the more desirable members of British society. Anger welled up in Arthur's chest as he peered through small windows in thick iron doors to see inmate after inmate lying on hard, plain metal beds, their wrist and ankles strapped down, kept sedated so that they could not disturb the royal visit with their cries of anguish, pain and misery.

Breathing deeply through his nose, Arthur forced himself to regain his composure before speaking.

"Father?" He said, bracing himself against the King's steely gaze, no down furious with his son for his interruption. "Pardon me for interrupting, but would it be possible for me to walk by myself for a while? I need a few moments alone to properly absorb and appreciate the work here."

Uther hesitated for a moment before glancing enquiringly at the hospital manager, who nodded, before nodding coldly himself.

As Arthur turned as started to walk back down the corridor, he heard his father speak.

"I do apologise for my son." Uther said formally. "He has a rather weak stomach where hospitals are concerned. I'm afraid he found the media's illicit footage of his mother's death when he was nine years old and was severely traumatised. He has been unable to abide with any exposure to hospital environments ever since."

Arthur froze briefly mid-step, forcing down the unwelcome images of his mother crying and moaning on blood-soaked sheets, her newborn son clutched desperately to her chest. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the nausea that rose up within him, Arthur resumed his firm, authoritative exit from the corridor.

***************************

Arthur burst violently out of the door into the gardens, running as fast as he could across the grass before vomiting repeatedly into a bush on the other side of the lawn. After several minutes of retching and vomiting until his stomach was completely empty, the prince straightened up, ghostly pale and trembling, and wiped his mouth shakily on a handkerchief from his pocket.

"Something wrong, _sire_?" Arthur span around on the spot, searching nervously for the man who had emphasised the 'sire' in such as exaggerated way he had managed to make the ordinarily respectful address sound like an insult. After a moment, his eyes fell upon a pale, skinny young man, sitting on a bench underneath a nearby tree.

"Excuse me?" He asked, approaching the stranger slowly, appraising him quickly as he walked.

He was a very frail looking young man, with dark brown, almost black, hair and startling blue eyes, both of which contrasted strikingly with his extremely pale, white skin. He had prominent, sharp cheekbones, and, to Arthur's amusement, slightly large ears which he appeared to have failed to grow into. Oddly, Arthur found himself thinking, these odd features all combined to look, actually, quite attractive.

"Cigarette?" Arthur stared blankly at his new companion for a moment, before reaching out and taking the cigarette and the accompanying lighter from him with a numb, stunned nod of thanks and sitting down on the bench next to him.

"I'm Arthur." The young prince said, lighting the cigarette and returning the lighter.

"Fucking hell, I know who you are." The stranger snorted. "I'm Merlin."

Arthur stared at him for a moment, searching for any hint that the stranger was joking. Seeing no hint of humour in his eyes, however, Arthur simply shrugged his shoulders, rolling his eyes at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. Prince Arthur sitting in a mental institution's garden having a quick smoke with Merlin? It was like something from a Ricky Gervais show.

"So, Your Worship." Merlin asked, peering curiously at the prince through his thick, dark eyelashes. "What exactly crawled up your arse?"

Arthur could only gape. In his whole life, nobody, except perhaps his father and Morgana, had ever spoken to him with anything but absolute respect. "Merlin," he said, with a hint of shocked humour in his voice. "You can't speak to me like that!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Merlin replied, with an overdramatic roll of his eyes and a mocking bow. "What exactly crawled up your arse, _my lord_?"

Arthur could hardly contain a disbelieving snort, staring at Merlin with incredulous amusement. After a moment, though, he answered Merlin's question.

"Is this the kind of country I'm going to inherit?" He asked sombrely. "A country where the sick are locked away like criminals and treated like animals, so that they don't bother the healthy?"

The pair were silent for several minutes, looking around the bright, sunlit garden, smoking their cigarettes and contemplating Arthur's words.

"Who are you, anyway?" Arthur asked after a while, clearing his throat. "Staff? Visitor?"

"There are never visitors here." Merlin replied with a wry smile. "I'm a patient. The sedatives don't work on me and I have an arrangement with one of the nurses so he makes sure I don't get restrained in my room that much."

"Patient?" Arthur repeated, shocked. "But you're so…"

"Normal?" Merlin finished his sentence. "Maybe. But I'm also a depressed, self-harming, bulimic, formerly suicidal ex-anorexic." Merlin hesitated for one moment. "I'm not the kind of person they want in your country, Arthur."

Arthur stared, unable to think of any appropriate response.

"Your Highness?" Arthur looked up, secretly relieved to see one of his big, bulky minders interrupting the suddenly suffocating, awkward silence. "It's time to leave, sire."


	2. A Decision

Chapter 2 – A Decision

Screams filled the air, stabbing through Arthur's ears, making his head throb blindingly within his skull, and making him want to push the heels of his hands into his eyes to block out the sights around him.

Merlin was lying on an old hospital bed, stretched out on a thin, lumpy mattress, his wrists strapped down beside his hips. His ankles were similarly restrained at the end of the bed, and a thick, brown leather strap stretched across his chest and the tops of his arms, holding him flat against the mattress.

Nurses and doctors surrounded the young man, all injecting him with thick, rusty syringes dispensing a watery, slightly yellow substance. Merlin was crying, sobbing and screaming all at the same time, trying and failing to struggle away from the multiple injections.

The sedatives, though, had no effect on the poor creature, and he continued to sob with broken, hitched little breaths, tears leaking down the sides of his face, his wide, tortured blue eyes seeking out Arthur's own, slightly lighter, blue orbs, trapping him in his pained, pleasing gaze.

"Arthur!" he begged, struggling against his restraints, his fingers stretched wide as he tried to reach out to the frozen, horrified prince. "Arthur! Please!"

* * *

"_MERLIN!_"

Arthur woke with a jolt, his screams piercing the air. The prince's expensive and luxurious silk pyjama bottoms and Egyptian cotton sheets were soaked with sweat, and tears were streaming down his face. He had scratched desperately and violently at his arms, chest and face during his nightmare, and his skin was marred with bloody scrapes.

The sound of footsteps rushing across the room dragged him harshly from the memories of his dream, and he looked up to see Gaius, the palace doctor, hurrying towards him from the door, a wet cloth clutched in his hand.

"Your Highness," Gaius said, wiping the sweat from the young prince's face with the cold flannel. "Are you alright? You have been screaming for quite some time."

"I'm fine." Arthur lied, trying to push the fussing hands away from his face. At Gaius's raised eyebrow, however, he added "It was just a dream."

"May I ask what it was about?" Gaius pressed, making it clear that this was in no way a request.

"It was nothing." Arthur replied, earning himself another infamous raised eyebrow from the physician. "Just somebody I met yesterday."

"Will you tell me who?" Gaius asked, an enquiry promptly ignored by the prince.

"What time is it?" Arthur asked instead, feeling around on his bedside table for his watch.

"Quarter past eight." Gaius responded, jumping back slightly when Arthur suddenly threw the duvet away from himself and jumped out of bed. "May I ask where you're going?" Gaius asked with slight exasperation as Arthur hurried towards his wardrobe, pulling out a pair of jeans and a plain blue t-shirt.

"No, you may not." Arthur replied as he hurriedly pulled off his sweaty pyjama bottoms and pulled some clean underwear.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Arthur opened the door to his black Audi TT and jumped into the driver's seat. He was wearing the jeans and blue t-shirt, with a plain red hoodie, which he had thrown on as fast as he could, without bothering to shower or wash before running past a stunned Gaius and out of his bedroom door.

The engine roared to life, and Arthur pulled on his seatbelt while already speeding through the open gates of Clarence House.

* * *

"I want to see Merlin." Arthur demanded, storming through the doors of Marshworth and slamming his hands down on the reception desk.

"Excuse me?" The receptionist said, her eyes raking over Arthur's attire. "And who are you?"

"I'm Prince Arthur." Arthur snapped, removing neither the baseball cap nor the hood which currently covered most of his face.

"_You're_ Prince Arthur?" The receptionist sneered, smirking in amusement. "Sure. And I'm the Queen of Sheba."

"Well, _Your Majesty_," Arthur replied, finally removing his hat and hood. "Nice to meet you. Now, where the hell is Merlin?"

The receptionist's grey eyes widened comically, and she anxiously ran her hands over her brown, slightly greasy hair, which was tied back in a tight bun. After a moment, during which her mouth opened and closed gormlessly a number of times, she grabbed the phone from next to her and began barking frantically at whoever answered.

"Grant!" She shrieked, not even attempting to lower her voice. "Prince Arthur's here. He wants to see Emrys!" There was a brief hesitation. "No I'm not bloody kidding! Just get him ready, Grant, nice and safe. I'm bringing His Royal Highness straight to you."

She slammed the phone down before hastily standing up, straightening her skirt and fluttering her eyelashes in what, Arthur realised with a jolt of horror, could only be described as a flirtatious manner.

Arthur followed the receptionist down the corridor, forcing himself not to look through any of the tiny windows into the numerous cell-like bedrooms. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, but was actually little more than a couple of minutes, Arthur and his frantic escort stopped outside one of these rooms.

After the door had been opened, Arthur stepped into the room, his eyes widening at the sight in front of him.

Merlin was lying on the bed, staring silently out of the window opposite the door, his wrists and ankles strapped down tightly with thick leather restraints, just like, the prince realised with revulsion, in Arthur's dream. From where he stood by the door, Arthur could see that the skin beneath these leather straps had been rubbed raw.

"You." Arthur said, pinning the nearest nurse with his stormiest, most Uther-like glare. "Untie him, and then leave us alone."

There was a brief moment when all of the staff in the room stood, frozen, unsure of how to proceed. However, when Arthur barked "_NOW!_", there was a flurry of movement in which they all rushed forward together to release the small, skinny young man on the bed, and, barely a moment later, Arthur found himself alone with Merlin.

"Hey." He said quietly, stepping forward to where Merlin had yet to move from his position staring blankly out of the window. "You ok?"

Merlin turned his head slowly to look at Arthur, his brow slowly furrowing in confusion as he raised himself shakily into a sitting position. "What are you doing here?"

Arthur laughed hollowly, shaking his head. "I have no fucking idea." He responded honestly. "I just woke up and I had to come."

Merlin just nodded, as though Arthur had said nothing out of the ordinary, continuing to warily survey the blond. Both remained silent for a moment, simply watching each other quietly, before Arthur finally spoke.

"Merlin, how long have you been here?"

"Dunno." Merlin told him with a shrug. "I know it's been years. You just stop counting after a while."

"Ok." Arthur said, taking a deep breath. "Why are you here?"

"That's really none of your fucking business." Merlin replied without any hesitation.

"Ok, then." Arthur said, thinking. "Are you dangerous?"

"To other people?" Merlin asked. Arthur nodded, watching Merlin carefully, searching for any sign of dishonesty. "No." Merlin responded. "I've never hurt anybody, and I don't _think_ I ever really wanted to."

"That's ok then." Arthur said with a sigh of relief. "That's good." He hesitated, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. "Look," he continued. "I'll be coming back. I promise." Merlin nodded, still cautiously watching the prince. "Just hold on for me, and everything'll be fine."

Merlin nodded again, and Arthur waited one brief moment longer, staring intently into the other man's deep, slightly cared, blue eyes, before stepping backwards out of the room with a nod and a small, brief smile.


	3. A Plan in Action

Chapter 3 – A Plan in Action

_A/N: Hey guys! So sorry about the lack of Merlin in this chapter… it's something of a transition chappy… anyway, must say a massive thanks to my wonderful beta Sigrid!! And on with the story!!_

"Ok." Arthur said, standing once again at the dingy reception desk at Marshworth and glaring angrily at the receptionist. "I want all the paperwork relating to Merlin Emrys."

There was a brief moment of silence, no doubt while the flabbergasted woman contemplated making arguments about patient confidentiality, before she thought better of it and rushed into the back room. A moment later, she returned with a small paper folder with the name 'Emrys, Merlin G' written on it in faded black marker, which she handed to Arthur, fumbling nervously.

Arthur sat down on the tatty, old sofa opposite the reception desk and, opening the folder, he paused for a moment to look at the photograph of Merlin looking pale, thin and miserable in front of a grey screen, wearing a plain black t-shirt. Taking a deep and calming breath, Arthur started to read:

**Patient Number: **_**69537106**_

**Surname: **_**EMRYS**_

**Forename(s): **_**MERLIN G**_

**D.O.B.: **_**01/01/1988**_

**Home Address: **_**NONE AVAILABLE**_

**Emergency Contact: **_**NONE PROVIDED**_

**Nationality: **_**BRITISH CITIZEN**_

**Symptoms upon admission: **_**SIGNIFICANT EVIDENCE OF SELF-HARMING BEHAVIOUR; ANOREXIA NERVOSA; SIGNS OF BULIMIA NERVOSA WHEN PRESSURED TO EAT; ATTEMPTED SUICIDE – CUT WRISTS USING UNKNOWN WEAPON; PREVIOUS ATTEMPTS OF SUICIDE – OVERDOSE CODEINE, CUT WRISTS X2, HANGING, RAN INTO BUSY ROAD, DROVE CAR INTO LAKE; SEVERELY LOW SELF-ESTEEM – REGULARLY REFERS TO SELF AS A MONSTER/FREAK OF NATURE/FREAK/WEIRDO/DANGEROUS**_

**Other relevant symptoms: **_**EXTENSIVE SIGNS OF SEVERE SEXUAL & PHYSICAL ABUSE. LACERATIONS TO BACK (POSSIBLY BELT/WHIP); CIGARETTE BURNS (SOME POSSIBLY SELF-INFLICTED TO ARMS & CHEST, BUT ALSO MANY TO BACK AND BUTTOCKS), EVIDENCE OF REPEATED RAPE FROM YOUNG AGE; SEDATIVES HAVE NO EFFECT (UNKNOWN REASONS)**_

**Date of admission: 19/11/2002**

**Age at admission: 14**

Arthur took yet another deep breath, turned the page and felt his stomach lurch in disgust. This page, entitled 'Appendix – Related Incidents 2009' showed a grainy photograph of Merlin, cigarette in hand, alongside the caption '28/01/2009 – PATIENT SEEN SMOKING ON CCTV OUTSIDE MAIN DOORS TO INSTITUTION', while the photograph below that (19/2/2009 – PATIENT'S INSIDE RIGHT WRIST – WEAPON UNKNOWN) showed a close up image of what Arthur assumed was Merlin's wrist, covered in an uncountable number of shallow cuts.

Below that was yet another image (14/07/2009 – PATIENT FOUND IN ROOM – VIOLENTLY SELF-INFLICTED CUTS AND BURNS – WEAPONS UNKNOWN), which made Arthur's eyes burn with unshed tears. It was a photograph of Merlin, sitting shirtless on the edge of a hospital bed, his arms and torso covered in cut and burn after cut and burn. His face was pale and tearstained, baring an expression of resigned anger, staring with thin, pursed lips at a spot near the floor behind the camera.

"Is this your idea of _treatment_?" Arthur demanded, standing up and showing the photographs of Merlin to the receptionist. "Take a couple of photos then lock them back in their cell?"

"Staff at the centre ensure that all wounds are cleaned and dressed appropriately, Your Highness." The receptionist replied, barely glancing at the picture. "We would never leave a patient's wounds untreated."

"And what about the mental wounds?" Arthur snarled. "That's why Merlin's here, isn't it? This is a _mental _hospital? Why is there no reference to treatment? Counselling or medication?" Arthur stopped for a moment, waiting for a reply - for any reason for Merlin's state, before he shook his head with a humourless laugh. "Get him ready." He said, turning towards the door. "I'm going to make preparations, and then Merlin will be going into private care."

* * *

Arthur marched purposefully towards Gaius's office in St Mary's hospital, ignoring the stunned stares of patients and staff alike at the sight of a scruffily dressed Crown Prince storming through the corridors. "Gaius!" He said, barging into the office, marked with a gold sign reading 'Dr Gaius Emerson, by appointment of His Majesty King Uther', not even acknowledging the patient sitting opposite the physician. "I need your help, urgently."

"Your Highness?" Gaius said, offering a quick apology to the lady he had been speaking to and standing up with concern apparent on his face. "What happened? Are you ill? Hurt?"

"No." Arthur said, pulling Gaius into a far corner of the office and lowering his voice to barely more than a whisper. "I need you to help me find a psychiatric nurse."

Gaius stared at Arthur for a moment, his mouth opening and closing in shock. "Well," he responded after a moment. "I must say I'm glad you've finally decided to take my advice, although I must also ask what prompted you to –"

"For fuck's sake, Gaius!" Arthur huffed, rolling his eyes. "It's not for me." Gaius' eyebrow rose high towards his hairline at this, and Arthur just shook his head firmly. "Look, don't ask any questions. I just need a residential psychiatric nurse capable of dealing with a pretty messed up guy."

"How messed up?" Gaius asked, walking over to the desk, followed closely by the prince. Grabbing a silver fountain pen and leaning over a notepad, Gaius waited for Arthur's response.

"Erm, major self-harm." Arthur told him, once again feeling the nausea rising up in his stomach as he thought about Merlin's file. "Anorexia, bulimia, a few suicide attempts in the past. History of major abuse, definitely sexual, and I think it said physical as well."

Gaius gaped at Arthur for a moment, before hastily scribbling down what he had been told. "I may be able to find somebody." He said slowly, peering curiously at Arthur. "I believe you said residential?"

"Yes." Arthur replied. "I'll be heading over to the Acton house today. It needs cleaning up a bit – I've barely used the place since I bought it. That should be big enough, yes?"

"It has four bedrooms, yes?" Gaius asked, sitting down weakly behind the desk, glancing briefly at the patient still sitting in front of him with a stunned expression on her face.

"Yes." Arthur explained. "I thought one each for me, Merlin and the nurse, plus a spare room for anything counselling related."

"Sire, are you sure this is a good idea?" Gaius said, his eyebrow raised. "You know what you're like. Things like this tend to get to you."

"I'm absolutely sure." Arthur said firmly, turning towards the door and pulling his hood up. "Just get to work on that nurse. I've got cleaning to do."

* * *

It was several hours later when, having tried to ignore the persistent knocking at his front door for more than ten minutes, Arthur carefully pulled aside the curtain in the front bedroom and looked down at the doorstep to see Gaius and a girl he had never seen before standing, waiting for him to answer.

"Maybe he's not in." Arthur heard the girl suggest. "He would've answered by now if he was."

"He's in, Miss Leo de Grance." Gaius said. "He needs to check who's there before he can answer the door."

"Paranoid?" Miss Leo de Grance enquired, raising a curious eyebrow at the doctor.

"No." Was Gaius' reply. "You'll understand when he finally gets around to letting us in."

Arthur walked away from the window, dropping the wet towel he was carrying into the laundry basket in the bathroom on his way past. A moment later, staying hidden behind the front door, Arthur let Gaius and his guest into the house.

"Miss Leo de Grance," Gaius said, once the door had been closed. "May I introduce Prince Arthur Pendragon. Arthur, this is Guinevere Leo de Grance. She is a psychiatric nurse interested in the job you requested I fill."

Arthur held out his hand, which, after a moment of stunned gaping, Guinevere took and shook gently, still looking rather shell-shocked. She was a slightly small, curly-haired black girl, wearing a lilac jumper over jeans and, after a taking a moment to recover from the shock of finding herself face-to-face with the future King of England in a random house in North Acton, she smiled warmly at Arthur.

"I take it Dr Emerson failed to inform you who exactly you would be working for?" Arthur asked, straight away getting the feeling that this was the right nurse for the job.

"No, he didn't, Your Highness." Guinevere said with a small smile. "And please, call me Gwen. I always think 'Guinevere' makes me sound like something out of Lord of the Rings."

Arthur, laughing slightly, led Gwen and Gaius into the lounge, sitting down on the armchair opposite them and smiling politely. "I'm so sorry about the mess." He apologised, inwardly cringing at how absolutely and inexcusably posh and _royal _he sounded. "I've been preparing for Merlin's arrival."

"Merlin's the patient?" Gwen asked.

"Yes." Arthur told her, taking Merlin's file from the coffee table and handing it over. "He's twenty-one years old and been in hospital since he was fourteen."

There was a brief silence while Gwen read through Merlin's paperwork, before she frowned a little, turning over the pages as though looking for something.

"I don't see anything about any treatment he's received." She said, sounding confused.

"That's why I'm so keen to get him out of there." Arthur told her, a cloud of stormy anger descending in his eyes. "They just clean his wounds and keep him restrained. He said he has an arrangement with one of the staff so that they don't restrain him as often as the other patients, but there's no record of any psychiatric treatment at all."

"Ok." Gwen nodded, closing the file and handing it back to Arthur. "Well, it sounds like he certainly needs some good counselling. Probably anti-depressants as well."

"Would you be up for the job?" Arthur asked, sighing with relief that she hadn't simply refused any involvement. "You would receive full salary, accommodation here would come at not cost. The only cost to you living here would be your share of bills and food. Practicalities can be dealt with whenever you want."

"That sounds fabulous, sire." Gwen said, smiling widely.

"Is there anything in particular you would need for him or for you?" Arthur asked, grabbing a pen and notebook. "I have a separate room upstairs especially for Merlin's treatment, but do you need any furniture or equipment?"

"Well," Gwen said. "A couple of comfortable chairs up there would be good, thank you, Your Highness, along with a coffee table and general decorations to make the place a warm, comfortable environment. I'll also need some art supplies – paints, paintbrushes, paper, pencils, crayons, glue, Plasticine. I already have a sandplay kit that I can bring."

"That's marvellous." Arthur said, standing up and allowing Gaius and Gwen to follow his example. "I'll have all of that by tomorrow evening, and Merlin will be moving in, hopefully, the day after. When will you be available to move in?"

"I can be here tomorrow, Your Highness." Gwen said, smiling again. "Make sure everything is ready for Merlin before he arrives."

"Thank you very much, Gwen." Arthur said, shaking her hand as he walked her and Gaius to the front door. "I will have one of my people draw up a contract of employment and we can go through it tomorrow."

Gwen and Arthur said their goodbyes and, giving Gaius a quick thumbs up, Arthur let them out of the house, turning back towards the living room with a satisfied sigh. There was just a little bit of cleaning left to do, and then he could call his valet to take him back to Clarence House. And tomorrow… tomorrow he would make some calls to get Merlin out of that foul, soul-destroying place.


	4. You Don't Owe Me Anything

Chapter Four – You Don't Owe Me Anything

_A/N: Apologies for anything in this that may be triggering. It was pretty tough for me to write, so…_

_Anyway, apologies for taking _so_ long writing this chapter. The downside of doing is Masters is the deadlines just never stop coming, and I've been attacked by the evil demon plot bunnies for another multi-chap fic, a oneshot, _and_ an original story idea._

_Also, many thanks to my marvellously wonderful beta sparkysluvchild. You're a wonderful human being!_

* * *

Merlin sat on the edge of the mattress, bound to the bed by only his left arm, the leather strap digging in slightly and rubbing harshly against the skin of his wrist whenever he moved his hand. He placed a cigarette gently between his lips, breathing deeply as he lit it and took a drag.

Since he had met the Prince of Wales, Merlin's life in Marshworth had become slightly less painful, and he was grateful to the Prince for that, if nothing else. The staff no longer kept him strapped motionless on his bed, only keeping one arm restrained to prevent him leaving the centre (Merlin had a baffling ability to find his way outside no matter how many locked doors should have prevented him), and they now only tried to stick drugs into him when he had particularly violent nightmares (not that the drugs actually worked on Merlin, but the feeling of multiple needles jabbing into one's veins generally tended to wake a person up).

In reality, though, Merlin wasn't really expecting to ever see Arthur again. People who visited places like this tended to go through a brief phase of pity for one of the unfortunate cases, and then forget about it after a night's clubbing and an anonymous shag with some stick-thin model who probably ate just as little and purged just as much as the unfortunate case they'd been obsessing about in the first place. Which is why, when the door to his room was opened with a clang, and Merlin turned to see Arthur standing in the doorway like the quintessential knight in shining armour, it felt to Merlin like the entire world had been tipped violently onto its head.

"You!" Arthur barked, turning angrily to the nearest nurse and glaring furiously. "I thought I'd made my opinions about restraining him perfectly clear. Release him. Now!"

There was a wild flurry of movement as what looked like most of the staff in the centre descended in unison on Merlin and all tried to unlock his wrist restraint at the same time. Merlin found he had to hold his cigarette vertically above his head just to avoid accidentally setting one of them on fire as they all scrambled to be the one to carry out the Prince's wishes.

"Arth – ow! – Arthur?" Merlin said, peering over numerous uniformed shoulders to look anxiously at Arthur. "What the hell are you doing here? Ow!" Merlin glared angrily as a particularly unpleasant nurse (who Merlin only knew as 'The Bitch of Botox', or BB) with false nails roughly the length of Italy smacked him around the head with slightly more force than could technically be called affectionate teasing and muttered something about showing proper respect.

"I'm getting you out of here." Arthur replied, marching up to the scuffle, grabbing BB by the arm, walking her to the door and pushing her into the corridor with nothing but a glare and a flick of the hand to indicate that she should leave before he did something his father would undoubtedly have somebody tell him off for. "What did you think I was doing here?"

"But _why_?" Merlin asked.

Arthur hesitated, staring at Merlin with warm, thoughtful eyes while nurses ran around the room, throwing Merlin's few possessions into a bag.

"Because you don't deserve to be made to believe you're not wanted in this country, Merlin." Arthur said after a few moments, stepping forward and smiling slightly. "Because, believe me, you really are."

* * *

Arthur opened the door to his house, dropping Merlin's holdall on the floor next to the stairs before leading Merlin himself through into the lounge to meet Gwen.

"Merlin," Arthur said, beckoning him further into the room. "This is Gwen. She's a mental health nurse.

Merlin's eyes widened slightly, and Arthur and Gwen both saw his shoulders stiffen with sudden tension.

"I'll be mainly doing counselling with you." Gwen said, sitting down on the couch and indicating that Merlin should sit next to her. Arthur stayed standing next to the door, unsure of where he should sit, until Gwen looked pointedly from him to an armchair in the corner of the room. "I try not to medicate unless absolutely necessary, and even then, I'd only give you anti-depressants. I don't think that people's problems should just be sedated away."

Merlin nodded, chewing his bottom lip anxiously and looking at Gwen, clearly trying to assess her character as fast as possible.

"What will you make me talk about?" He asked after a moment.

"I won't _make _you talk about anything." Gwen told him emphatically. "Talking may not even be the best way for you. We could try music, painting, drawing, sandbox, writing stories. There's plenty of options for helping you get better, Merlin."

Merlin's eyes lit up slightly as he looked hopefully at Gwen. "Get better?" He repeated, staring from her to Arthur with impossibly wide eyes. "But I've been like this forever. Isn't it too late?"

Gwen smiled, shaking her head. "It's never too late."

* * *

They spent the evening quite casually once Merlin had settled in, eating a dinner of spaghetti bolognaise before curling up in front of the TV and watching back-to-back episodes of Doctor Who on DVD (they hadn't had a television in Marshworth, so Merlin had never even heard of it).

It was nearly midnight when, after Merlin had dozed off on the sofa next to Arthur and started drooling on the Prince's arm, the group decided to call it a night and go to bed. Flicking the lights off downstairs, Arthur led Merlin up the stairs, gave him a brand new toothbrush and showed him where towels and cloths were kept, before wishing him goodnight and heading into his own bedroom.

Once the door had closed behind him, Arthur grabbed the phone from beside his bed, dialling the number for his valet, Paul, at Clarence House.

"So you won't be back tonight, then?" Paul sighed after several minutes of Arthur trying to explain without actually explaining why he had escaped to his barely ever used private house.

"Paul, stop polishing your glasses." Arthur snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I can practically _hear_ you doing it."

"Well, sire, I'm afraid any time you decide to spontaneously disappear for a while it tends to mean you've done or are about to do something incredibly irresponsible." Paul huffed, sounding as though it was taking a painful amount of effort to remind himself that he was speaking to the future king of England. "Last time it was because you had apparently impregnated a hotel chain heiress."

"I hadn't impregnated her!" Arthur sniped indignantly, cringing at how whiney he sounded. "Sophia just thought I'd be stupid enough to marry her no questions asked!"

"Well who've you allegedly impregnated this time then?" Paul tried. "Accidentally bought an island?"

"Paul!" Arthur cried. "I haven't impregnated anyone! And how can you _accidentally _purchase an island?"

"Lost the crown jewels in a game of poker, then?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, wondering why, in the twenty years Paul had been working with him, he hadn't fired him yet for sheer abuse of sarcasm. "Look," he said, sighing deeply. "I haven't done anything like that, ok? I just needed some time away from bloody palaces!"

"Ok." Paul said (Arthur could picture him shrugging his shoulders in defeat at this point). "Just make sure you're back here by twelve pm tomorrow. You're lunching with the King and the Prime Minister at two."

Arthur nodded, making a note on a post-it pad beside his bed as he said a quick goodbye before hanging up. He sat on the edge of his bed for a few minutes, flipping the iPhone over and over in his hands and wishing he'd been born to a used car salesman from Clacton-on-Sea rather than the king of England, before shaking his head and standing up, beginning his nightly ritual before going to bed.

Arthur had only been in bed ten minutes, tossing and turning and trying to get comfortable, when his bedroom door was slowly opened, and Merlin shuffled quietly into the room.

"Merlin?" Arthur said, sitting up and turning on the bedside lamp. "What's wrong?"

"Couldn't sleep." Merlin explained, shrugging. "Thought I'd come and…" he trailed off, waving his hand vaguely in the air.

"Come on, sit down." Arthur said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and patting the space beside him. Merlin did, and Arthur took a moment to study him, sitting nervously in his baggy pyjama bottoms and plain grey t-shirt. "You need anything?"

Merlin shook his head, looking up at Arthur from under his eyelashes. He chewed his lip for a moment in what Arthur was rapidly coming to recognise as a regular nervous habit, before suddenly lunging forward and kissing Arthur stiffly.

Arthur froze, his eyes going wide for a moment, before quickly pulling back.

"What are you doing?" He asked, staring, stunned, at Merlin.

"You've done so much for me." Merlin said, looking extremely confused. "You've taken me in, given me food, found me a nurse who doesn't seem like the devil. So, you know, I'm… paying you back."

"_Paying_?" Arthur repeated, his mouth agape. Merlin nodded, still looking confused. "Merlin, I don't want _paying back_."

"But…" Merlin hesitated, his brow furrowed, like he really didn't understand. "Why've you done all this? What do you want?"

"Oh, god, Merlin." Arthur pulled Merlin towards him in a warm hug. "Merlin, I don't want anything." Arthur sighed, stroking Merlin's hair gently. "All I want is for you to just be you. I just want you to get better."

There was silence for a moment, and it was only when he felt something wet trickling down his bare chest that Arthur realised Merlin was crying.

"You really don't want anything from me?" Merlin asked, his voice quiet, delicate, and heartbreakingly broken.

"No." Arthur told him, resting his cheek against the top of the smaller man's head. "Nothing. You don't owe me anything."


	5. I Don't Want to Go Digging

Chapter 5 – I Don't Want to Go Digging

_A/N: This chapter may be really triggering. It features an intense counselling session, and there will be references to suicide and child sexual abuse._

It was nine o'clock the next morning when Merlin traipsed clumsily down the stairs, wincing as his thin socks slipped on the carpet and he skidded down the last three steps to land with a thud and a quiet "Ow" on the laminate floor in the hallway.

Arthur and Gwen were already eating when Arthur walked through the lounge into the dining area.

"Morning, Merlin." Arthur greeted through a mouthful of toast when he walked in. Merlin nodded silently at him, blushing more than should have been physically possible as he poured himself a large mug of black coffee and added three large spoons of sugar and awkwardly and obviously avoided making eye contact with the Prince.

"Are you going to eat breakfast?" Arthur asked, watching as Merlin turned the key in the patio doors and stepped out into the garden, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it despite Arthur not seeing him take out a lighter.

"Not hungry." Merlin grunted moodily, taking a deep drag from his cigarette and walking over to the bench on the other side of the garden.

Arthur and Gwen exchanged brief, slightly worried glances, before Arthur pushed his toast away and stood up with a look that clearly said 'I'll go'.

"You okay?" He asked, walking up to Merlin and sitting down next to him on the bench.

"I'm fine." Merlin clearly lied, still refusing to look at Arthur. "Just not hungry."

"You barely ate anything at dinner last night, Merlin." Arthur told him, his brow furrowed with concern. "You have to eat something."

"For fuck's sake, Arthur!" Merlin suddenly yelled, standing up and glaring angrily. "I know you've read my paperwork, so you know all about me. I don't want to fucking eat, so stop trying to make me!"

"Okay." Arthur said, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender. "Just at least have a glass of juice, please."

"Fine!" Merlin snapped, deliberately blowing smoke into Arthur's face in an obvious attempt to be as obnoxious as possible. "Anything to stop you nagging like my bloody mo –" He trailed off, a dark, less angry and more depressed cloud descending over his face.

"Thank you very much." Arthur said, choosing to ignore Merlin's sudden change of mood. "I have to go to lunch with my father and the fucking PM stinking of cheap fags."

There was a sudden ring on the doorbell, triggering Arthur to glance at his watch and, muttering "Fuck!" under his breath, hurry towards the front door, looking harassed.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Paul was still standing on the doorstep, watching, completely baffled, as Arthur, Prince of Wales and heir to the throne stormed into the hallway and up the stairs, carrying a large glass of orange juice and muttering in a falsely high voice "Of course, Arthur. I'll drink the juice, Arthur. Anything you say, Arthur. You'd think he was secretly plotting with _Morgana_ to have me die from stress so she could somehow inherit the pissing throne!"

Two minutes after that, Arthur came walking back down the stairs empty handed, closely followed by a tall, pale, almost worryingly thin, dark haired young man, who now had the orange juice and was shouting angrily at the Prince.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted, turning round to glare at the other young man. "Do we really have to have a domestic when I'm running late for lunch with the _fucking King and Prime Minister_?! If you don't want the juice, don't drink the juice! I just don't want you to starve!"

"No, I'll drink the juice!" The boy, apparently called Merlin, grabbed Arthur's arm to stop him at the bottom of the stairs and drinking the entire glass of juice before thrusting the glass into the blond's hand. "There! Just because you're the fucking Princess of whatever doesn't mean you have the right to tell me when I want to eat and when I don't! I've had that kind of crap since I was _fourteen_, Arthur, and you said you were getting me _away _from that!"

Arthur froze, looking stricken, and his eyes darted from Merlin to the glass to the top of the stairs, where, Paul saw, a small, curly-haired black woman was watching the scene with a slight look of satisfaction.

"Shit." Arthur said after a moment, setting the glass down on the bottom stair and rubbing his eyes anxiously. "Shit, Merlin, I'm sorry. God… look… I'm sorry. I'm just… I… I have no idea what I'm doing here. All I know is the useless scraps of information those idiots bothered writing down. And I don't know how to deal with any of that stuff."

Merlin shrugged, looking aimlessly around the hall before playfully punching Arthur in the arm and pulling a cigarette out of his jeans pocket. "It's ok." He shrugged, lighting the cigarette. "You don't mean… I know you mean well." He took a drag, holding the cigarette out to Arthur, who took a quick puff before passing it back. "You're just trying to do that whole 'getting me better' thing in one great big instant swoop."

"Yeah." Arthur agreed, glancing down at his watch. "Shite. Listen, Merlin. I have to go, but can you do something for me?" Merlin nodded, looking expectantly at Arthur. "Gwen's starting her sessions today. Just, I don't know, just tell her about what happened last night." Merlin looked suddenly very awkward, taking a small step back from Arthur and eying him wearily.

"Just tell her about it, that's all." Arthur went on, trying to reassure his companion. "It's just… there's something about you, Merlin, and you are worth _so _much more than just… _that_." Merlin snorted, and Arthur grabbed his wrist, shaking it slightly. "Hey!" He said, peering slightly to make the eye contact Merlin was so desperately avoiding. "You are! You just need to believe it."

Merlin hesitated for a moment before nodding reluctantly, and Arthur gave him a quick smile, waiting for just a brief second to take a deep breath and offer Gwen a slight nod, before pulling a thick coat on over his suit, tugging the hood up to cover half of his face, and hurrying quickly into the black, unmarked car Paul had parked in the specially provided disabled space outside the door.

* * *

Thirty minutes after Arthur left, Gwen led Merlin up to the top floor of the house, where one large room, taking up the entire attic space, had been set up as a specially furnished counselling area.

Two squashy, terracotta coloured and very comfortable looking sofas had been placed in the corner opposite the door, with a pine coffee table in between them. Next to these, much to Merlin's confusion, was a small, red plastic sandbox, which would have looked more at home in a children's play area than a therapist's 'office'. The rest of the room was taken up by a wide variety of different objects, including several piles of different coloured paper, canvases, easels, a CD player, and numerous boxes of brightly coloured plasticine.

Gwen sat down on one of the sofas, and Merlin sat down opposite her, his hands clasped tightly together, peering nervously around the room.

"Right." Gwen said, getting Merlin's attention as quickly as she could. "I want to run sessions like this for an hour per day, using whatever methods and materials we find best suit you."

"What will we do?" Merlin asked, watching the friendly looking nurse with a guarded expression.

"We'll just talk." Gwen told him. "I just want to help you learn to cope with and move past whatever has been hurting you all these years."

"I don't want to go digging." Merlin told her sharply, his eyes suddenly sparkling fiercely. "I have a nice little bottle in my mind and I want to leave everything I've stuffed in there right where it is, thank you very much."

Gwen considered him for a moment, considering what to say to him.

"Come with me." She said, standing up and walking towards a sink in the far corner of the room.

Merlin followed, watching as Gwen picked up an empty mineral water bottle and unscrewed the lid.

"Right, Merlin." Gwen said, turning the tap on and starting to fill the bottle with water. "What do you think will happen if I just keep letting this bottle fill up?"

"Well, eventually it'll be full." Merlin told her, glaring from Gwen to the bottle and back again.

"Exactly." Gwen agreed. "Until…"

There was a sudden spray as the bottle overfilled, and Merlin jumped back as he was splashed with cold water. Gwen turned off the tap and walked back over to the sofas, indicating that Merlin should follow her.

"Your metaphorical bottle is no different, Merlin." She told him. "You can keep bottling things up and hoping it will just go away, but eventually that bottle's going to overflow. That's where we've had all of these suicide attempts over the years."

There was silence for a moment, as Merlin ran his fingers over the thick, white scars on the inside of his wrists.

"You feel like giving me one of the bits from the bottle?" Gwen asked, smiling kindly at Merlin.

"Arthur told me to tell you something." Merlin divulged after a moment, and he seemed to be desperately avoiding eye contact with Gwen. "Something stupid I did last night."

Gwen didn't say anything in response to this, choosing instead to nod encouragingly, indicating that he should go on.

"Well he's been so nice to me." Merlin explained, speaking rapidly. "I don't understand why he'd do that if he really doesn't want anything in return. So… I just tried to pay him back."

"I see." Gwen said, her slight suspicions confirmed. "How did you think he wanted paying back?"

"How do you think?" Merlin snapped. "I just went to… you know… I thought he wanted sex, okay?"

Gwen nodded with a slight sigh. "Why did you think that?"

"That's what _everyone _wants!" Merlin cried. "People aren't just nice for no reason! They always want something, and it's always sex!"

"Are you speaking from experience, then?" Gwen asked.

"Well, I'd say that's pretty damn obvious, really." Merlin sniped back. "That's all anyone ever wants from me."

Gwen repressed a grimace, forcing herself to maintain her professional mask. "Since when?" She enquired further, almost dreading Merlin's answer. "When did you first figure this out?"

"I don't know!" Merlin glared at Gwen, clearly knowing exactly where Gwen was going with this line of questioning.

"I'm not asking for no reason, Merlin." Gwen explained, seeing Merlin's frustration.

"Fine then!" Merlin responded. "Nine. I was nine."

Gwen leant forward in her seat, peering closely at Merlin. "Well, Merlin, it's hardly surprising you've come to expect this from people." She told him. "When you're that young, you trust adults to care for you and protect you, and you had that trust broken. If you learn to expect the same behaviour from everyone else is your life, you can't have your trust broken again."

"So what would your miraculous advice be, then, Miss Mighty Counsellor?" Merlin asked defensively.

"There is no miracle fix." Gwen responded honestly. "You just need to learn to trust people again, and know that not everybody is going to hurt you."


	6. Never Stop Searching

Chapter 6 – Never Stop Searching

Arthur sighed wearily, dropping tiredly onto the edge of his bed in Buckingham Palace. His lunch with his father and the Prime Minister, and, unexpectedly, his step-sister Morgana, the Duchess of Edinburgh, had been even more stressful than he had expected it to be. As well as facing the usual hints about his lack of romantic life, which the press had noted frequently since he had been seventeen, and infuriatingly speculative glances from Morgana, Arthur had also been presented with a stack of booklets relating to various charities, so that he could select a single cause to which he could dedicate the annual Prince's Charity Christmas Ball.

Therefore, after merely ten minutes of perusing through information about the usual famous charities – the RSPCA, the Red Cross, Help the Heroes, Diabetes UK, and the NSPCC, to name just a few – Arthur was almost relieved when Morgana waltzed into his room, closing the door behind her, and sat down on the sofa opposite his bed, watching him expectantly.

"Can I help you, Morgana?" Arthur asked after a moment, dropping a leaflet about OXFAM down onto the pile of rejected charities and picking up another, this time about a charity Arthur had never even heard of, called NSS.

"What's going on with you?" Morgana asked, peering at him quizzically, as if he was a particularly confusing textbook she was determined to understand. "Something's on your mind."

Arthur had known Morgana and her younger sister Morgause since they were both seven years old, when his father had begun a relationship with her mother, Princess Maria Gorlois of Belgium, and they had become step-siblings a year later. While Morgause (now Duchess of Kent) had chosen to be educated in America following her mother's death ten years ago, when Arthur and Morgana were both fifteen, and Morgause was just thirteen, Morgana had stayed in England with Arthur and Uther, becoming, over the years, as only a loving sibling could, both Arthur's greatest antagonist and his closest confidant. The fact that she had an uncanny ability to detect when he had something which he might wish to confide certainly helped her with the second point.

"It's a long story." Arthur said, abandoning any hope of pretending nothing was going on with one glance of Morgana's severely raised eyebrow.

"Well then." Morgana said. "It's a good thing we're royalty and don't have to rush to clock into work, isn't it?"

Arthur stared, wondering how much he should say.

"I've kind of... taken somebody in." He said simply. "Someone who had nowhere else to go."

"I see." Morgana responded enigmatically. "Care to explain where you found this stray?"

"In the mental hospital." Arthur told her, cringing and waiting for the explosion.

The explosion never came.

"I see." Morgana said again. "Are they okay?"

"He's doing alright, I suppose." Arthur responded. "I've hired a residential nurse for him. I just... I don't know what I'm doing. He's only been out one night, and I don't know if the way he's been is normal for him, or if he's just adjusting to life outside the hospital, or if I'm doing something wrong."

"Oh, Arthur." Morgana sighed, moving to sit next to Arthur on the bed. "Whatever's going on, I'm sure you're doing your best. You're not really the type to go into anything half-arsed."

"What if my best isn't enough."

Morgana stared, startled by the uncharacteristic vulnerability in Arthur's voice.

"Just be there for him." The Duchess replied. "Just be there for him, and that will be enough."

Arthur froze outside the door to the Acton house, the key held dumbly in the lock, staring at the leaflet gripped tightly in his left hand. How had he not noticed that? All through the talk with Morgana, the telephone call to Paul, the car journey back, how had he failed to realise that he was still clutching the leaflet about Never Stop Searching?

He slowly let himself into the house and walked through to the lounge, still staring at the booklet as he lowered himself into an armchair with a mumbled greeting to Merlin, who was sitting on the sofa clutching a mug of tea. Shaking his head briefly to clear his mind, Arthur began to read.

NSS was a charity raising money for the families of missing people, both children and adults, to help them cope and to fund the continued search for their loved ones once the authorities had given up hope. A quick read over the information about the charity told Arthur that it had been established by a woman whose teenaged son had disappeared during the night several years earlier, and had been given up on by the police after just six months.

Sighing deeply in thought, Arthur's eyes fell on Merlin. His files had said that he had been in the hospital since he was fourteen years old. Where were his family? Did he have parents? Brothers or sisters? Grandparents who missed him? What was his mother going through, wondering whether her son was alive or dead? Would things have been different for him if there had been a fund available to help reunite him with his family? Did he even want to be found?

"Everything ok?"

Arthur focused on Merlin's face to see the other man watching him curiously, his brow furrowed. The Prince hesitated, wondering whether to voice the question on his mind.

"What happened to your family?" He blurted out, cringing as he saw Merlin's jaw drop.

"Why?" Merlin asked suspiciously.

"I'm just curious." Arthur assured him, folding the leaflet and tucking it into his pocket before walking over to sit next to Merlin on the sofa. "I won't try to interfere, I was just wondering how you ended up in the hospital."

Merlin stared for a moment before speaking.

"I ran away." He said. "Just after my fourteenth birthday. The guy who... He was my mum's lodger. My dad died when I was a baby and she'd worked really hard to support us both when I was little, and then when I was nine she got this lodger. I couldn't tell her what he was doing. She couldn't afford to lose the money. And... I didn't want her to know. She was all I had, and I didn't want her to look at me and see a victim, or to think I was weak or pathetic or stupid. I think I was scared she wouldn't believe me. Why would she? I had no proof. So, one night, after he'd left me for the night, I got dressed, took a loaf of bread from the kitchen, and I left. I haven't been back since. I just lived on the streets for a few months"

Arthur sat in silence for a moment, taking in the sad, faraway look in Merlin's eyes before speaking. "God, Merlin, I'm so sorry."

"It's ok." Merlin said with a shrug. "I don't think I regret it."

"You don't _think _you regret it?" Arthur replied.

"Well I miss my mum." Merlin said, placing his now empty mug on the coffee table and curling up against Arthur. "And my uncle. But I'm ok."

"You should be more than ok." Arthur said, holding Merlin tightly. He imagined hugs were something he hadn't experienced a lot of in the last few years. "You should be happy. You shouldn't have had to sleep rough or spend years in some hell-hole hospital."

"It's fine." Merlin assured him. "For one thing it turns out council tax living on the streets is a freaking bargain."

Arthur snorted, pulling back slightly to peer down in amusement at Merlin's face. Merlin looked back up at him, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mirth, his face flushed and content, and Arthur suddenly found it difficult to breathe. He'd had thoughts and urges about other men before, at Eton and St Andrews, but they had always been easy to quash, overshadowed by knowledge of his responsibility, the requirement to marry and produce an heir, and hyperawareness of how much of a field day the press would have if they found out. Now, though, looking down at Merlin, he was sorely tempted to just say sod it all, throw all of that out of the window, and kiss him.

Merlin was beautiful. There was no other word for it. He was such a strange, perfect mess of contradictions: pale and dark; funny and sad; vulnerable and oh so brave. Arthur found himself wanting to both protect him and show him off, telling everybody 'Look at this man. This brave, wonderful man you were happy to abandon and forget. Look at him and think about what a waste that would have been.'

Arthur blinked, unsure of how long he had been staring. Had it been ten seconds or ten minutes. He had unconsciously drifted forwards, until his lips were just a couple of centimetres from Merlin's. Merlin was watching him carefully, glancing from Arthur's eyes to his lips and back again, his tongue darting out briefly to lick his lips before disappearing again.

Arthur jumped up, backing away quickly, his eyes never leaving Merlin's face. He stared for a moment, trying to think of something – anything – he could say to explain himself. Finally, he shook his head desperately and darted from the room, ignoring Gwen, who stood in the doorway, stunned, apparently having witnessed the entire scene.

A/N: After reading this chapter please remember families who really are missing loved ones. Madeleine McCann has been missing for more than four years. Keep looking for her, follow findmadeleine on Twitter, and if you can, donate to the Find Madeleine fund or buy Kate McCann's book to help fund the search for her.


End file.
